


halcyon

by harvestkitty



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Body Dysphoria, Graphic Description of Corpses, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, References to Illness, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-05 00:30:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10293365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harvestkitty/pseuds/harvestkitty
Summary: Blackwatch was a funny existence for an organization that claimed to protect peace.





	1. petrichor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [harvestkitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/harvestkitty/gifts).



> adapted from a rp.
> 
> this is intended to be a longfic about jesse and genji's life in blackwatch. how they meet, how they become friends, then lovers, how they separate, how they reunite, and their adventures thereafter.
> 
> to sari: thank you for showing me what it means to fall in love, to be truly happy, to feel like you don't deserve to feel as much love as you do for a single person.
> 
> -
> 
> 1\. petrichor /ˈpɛtrʌɪkɔː/ noun  
> a pleasant smell that frequently accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather.

One, two puffs of smoke escape his lips, disappearing around him as he shifts the cigar between his lips. Hidden from the rest of the members and commanders, behind the base, where the smell of smoke and ash is carried away along with the wind, he can relax. It's one of the few places he can go to smoke, to unwind. Not hear a lecture on how smoking is bad for his health, it kills, he's heard the rant several times. Not that it's ever stopped him from hiding his stash, sneaking out as often as he gets the chance to light one up.

It’s funny how Angela’s the one who most often comes around and snatches his cig disdainfully, tells him this, as if he doesn’t already know the million side effects of smoking from how many times she’s told him the same thing. It’s almost as if it’s an automatic response from her. Jesse already knows all too well about it. No matter how much she thinks it goes in one ear and out the other, it’s passed through the hollow between his ears enough times that it’s stuck. 

It doesn’t stop him. If anything, it encourages him.

Leaning back against the wall behind him, he runs over the info given to him, pawing through the holopad. New recruit, special case, unlike the others. Not from the military, but not really a civ either, judging from the skillset listed, assigned to his unit. Not a transfer from Overwatch, no credentials whatsoever. Green behind the ears. Someone brought here for – Jesse scrolls through the information on the pad. Training. Something like that. Damn Commander, giving him the file piled with all sorts of useless crap except the stuff that was actually relevant. Making him read. Jesse just never got the hang of legalese, and he was damned if the boss ever expected him to.

He keeps scrolling. The portrait is an omnic. Neon green visor. Huh. Jesse snickers. Green behind the ears, alright, if the glow in the picture was anything to go by.

Despite the vast diversity of the people he's met since joining himself, this is different. He's something different.

He misses Angela. He hasn’t seen her around for a good year already, and she’s basically been off the grid. He’s asked around, of course but everyone doesn’t know where she is, and the Commander never fails to tell him to mind his own business. Jesse never could get a break from him, and he scowls at the thought of his face. He quickly schools his expression back as he takes a drag from his cigar – no, yeah, professionalism ‘n all, and he sighs. He knows the Commander never does things without good reason. He’d managed to get in contact with her in the past few days, though. It had cost a whole lotta trouble, but she’d apparently been involved in something big. She said that they’d meet soon or whatever, and her voice twinkled in the way it always did when she was up to a surprise.

Not much of a surprise, really, since word had been floating around about how Dr Ziegler was visiting the base today. And how she’d broken the dam over the phone a few hours ago and started gushing about her project, a guy who needed half his body reconstructed, how she’d done her best but worried that it wasn’t enough. Then she’d rambled for a good hour about how worried she was about him, as if he was her child and she was sending him off to daycare for the very first time. She’d admonished him when Jesse had called the guy a cyborg, but it wasn’t as if he was fully human, either. Couldn’t really call him a man, wouldn’t be factually accurate. She then went into great detail of how she expected Jesse to be kind and understanding to him, especially since he would be joining Blackwatch. Blackwatch was the farthest thing from a daycare anything could be.

He scans through some more, to the classified shit. Goddamn Commander, always hiding the important stuff ‘til the end. It was nice that the Commander gave him the info, though. He didn’t have to, Jesse could suss it out, he was good at that, at least, but, hey. He liked giving his Commander some credit.

He drops the cigar on the ground, crushing it beneath his boot and letting the flame suffocate.

The plane had landed in the afternoon. The cyborg should be here by now, getting acquainted with the rest of Blackwatch, shown around the base. Coming out to smoke was his main reason for hiding out by the cliffs, but now that he thinks about it, it’s pretty good that he’s out here. The way Angela makes it sound, he's unsure how to react to it all. How he should treat the cyborg, if he should treat him any differently at all.

Well, maybe he doesn’t have that great of an excuse to put it off. The guy’s gonna be part of his unit. Better show some welcome, right?

Jesse breathes in slowly through his nose as he makes his way around the base, back to the front where he can rejoin the others, and introduce himself, as he should. He stuffs his hands in his pockets as he walks, steps slowly coming to a halt as he hears a distinct tapping nearby.

Footsteps.

Quick, light.

He turns his head to the side, eyes catching on a figure near him. The description given to him matches him perfectly. But looking at the way he moves, all little hops and gangly motion, unnatural, as if he’s caught between learning how to walk for the first time and how to leap 5 feet off the ground, Jesse wonders how the photographer got him to stand still long enough for him to get a clear shot of the helmet.

"Hey," he calls out, hand leaving his pocket in order to wave him over. "Are you," he realizes he doesn't remember the name, too set on thinking of him as Angela’s project, "the new recruit?"

"That depends. Are you Agent Leung?" The cyborg suddenly stills, turning to him. The lines of his body are stiff, drawn up from when he'd spoken out loud. Though his expression his hidden underneath his visor, it's clear that a certain degree of hostility hides in his stance.

Jesse's no fool- he can tell his presence isn't very welcome. His own stance stiffens in return, standing up straighter, hand previously used to give a small wave now reaching up to tilt the brim of his hat down a bit. The bite of his words brings back more thoughts of how Angela had spent time trying to explain his personality, how he might lash out a bit at first. He believed her, of course, but the readiness of his weapons and a stance ready to fight is a bit much.

"No," he replies, brows knitting together as he tries to stand his ground. "Name's McCree." He can understand the way he reacts, remembering his time joining and first arriving here. The attitude of a rebellious teenager, ready to fight most anyone he came across. It really does remind him of himself. At least they already have something in common. 

"Not lookin' for a fight," he continues, making a point to keep his hands away from the revolver strapped to his side. "Seems your little escort crew never showed. Why don't you let me show you around, on the house." He offers him a small smile now, something to hopefully show that he means no harm, that he actually is here to help. And if he's honest with himself, looking the other man over, he's unsure what he's capable of. A trusty six shooter can only do so much, especially against someone like this

"My apologies. I had not expected there to be a costume party to welcome my arrival." The sarcasm in his voice is obvious. It is scathing. Jesse can’t see the direction his gaze is pointed to, but he brings his hat down self-consciously. "Let me assure you, Agent McCree, that I am exceeding grateful for your offer, and would be likely to take you up on it, if you might be able to take me to Agent Leung."

The smile tugging on the corners of his mouth disappears instantly, realizing trying to be friendly isn't going to work very well. The urge to bite back with similar responses, to insult him and not waste his time on this is strong, but he fights it off. He doesn't need an enemy, or to be taken aside and told he needs to go to a class on how to behave. He’d gotten away with a bit of an attitude over the years, but he’s older now. Less leeway to fuck up, when everyone’s not a decade older than you anymore.

"My pleasure," he draws out through gritted teeth, hand returning to adjust his hat once again. Turning on his heel, facing away and towards the entrance of the base, he gives a small wave of his hand to signal for the other to follow. A light jingle can be heard from the spurs dawned on his boots, clanging as he takes a few steps forward. 

"Just follow me. You can follow a simple order, right?" His tone is a bit more biting than he intends, and he tries to play it off with another smile as he turns his head to look at him again. "Mind tellin' me your name, agent?"

"If you do not expect me to, I do not see why I should try," the cyborg replies, suddenly subdued. "My name... is S- Genji. Just Genji.” The cyborg follows after him like a child. 

"Genji," he repeats back, thick, slow accent butchering the short name a bit. He knew it started with a G. And he considers pressing him for his last name as well, but decides against it, since he himself didn't tell the other his first name. He'll get around to it. Probably when he's sure the other won't make a lunge at him for making a wrong move. 

"Listen," he continues, "I can deal with your little attitude you got, but not everyone here is gonna put up with that. Especially if you're gonna be ready to pounce on 'em.”

Jesse takes the opportunity to look Genji over again, trying to take in exactly what he's seeing. Questions prod at his mind, wondering exactly how much of him is still human, if there's anything left under that visor. He's certainly unlike any omnic he's met, that's for sure. It's obvious Jesse’s staring as they walk, down from his face, across his body, too many details to take in.

"Let them," Genji says acidly. "I did not come here to make friends with murderers. That is what you are, is it not, Agent McCree? Part... of Blackwatch. Mercenaries for the United Nations."

Jesse stops in his tracks, turning to fully face Genji again, face twisting from the friendly expression he tried to keep. His arms cross over his chest, looking down at the other man, giving him a harsh glare. 

"We ain't murderers," he spits, eyes narrowing. "Reckon it's the opposite, considerin' we saved your life and all." He takes a step forward as he speaks, realizing just how tall he is in comparison to him. At least that could be considered an advantage against him. Though he's certain Genji's smaller body isn't much of a drawback. "You might want to start thinking twice about the stuff you say 'round here."

Genji tilts his head towards Jesse’s belt, and he realizes he’s looking at his holster. The cyborg folds his arms across his chest, a mirror to Jesse’s pose. "I will not be cowed by you, cowboy. What are you going to do? Take my life again? I am already a dead man."

Jesse's silent, taking deep, slow breaths to keep himself calm, to not actually initiate a fight with the new recruit. The last thing he needs is more trouble. Having to face punishment from his commanders isn't exactly desirable. And though he hates to admit it, the way Genji describes himself as a dead man, it makes his chest tighten. 

"No," he finally responds, exhaling a long breath. "Honestly, I'm just tryin' to help you out. I might not try to kill you, but someone else might if you keep up this little attitude." The more he looks at him, thinks over what he's saying and why he's saying it, the more it reminds him of himself. The same bite he had back then, still not entirely lost, but much more dulled out. He understands the feelings running through him. 

"Don't think I ain't capable of taking you down, though. Won't hesitate if you actually try something."

"Your warnings are appreciated."

Genji takes a step forwards. "So, do you want to show me around, or should I perhaps try something," he drawls, mimicking Jesse’s exact tone. "I have not fully tested the limits of this body, and I would not mind if you truly wanted to help me, Agent McCree."

Another smile stretches across his lips, breaking the stern expression he'd been attempting to hold. This time it's not as welcoming, more mocking, pushing. Letting him know the threats made at him are nothing more than a joke, that he feels no fear that the other would actually hurt him. 

"Why don't you keep the flirting to a minimum, Agent Genji," he replies, raising a brow as he does so. He turns again to begin walking, cocky smile still plastered on his face. Arms falling to his sides, he gestures for Genji to follow him, tense body now relaxing.

For a while, there is blissful silence. Finally shut him up, huh? Jesse feels the bite of victory. It’s kind of strange, though, since Genji’d been so chatty before. He relaxes, keeps walking, back turned to Genji now as he takes a quick look around, trying to figure out the best place to begin their little tour. And where the hell Leung is. He's also sure Angela’ll want to make sure Genji’s first day’s going alright too, and Jesse would definitely enjoy the chance to speak to her.

He relaxes. The light humor had probably softened the tenseness between the two of them. A rough introduction, but he's sure he can patch things up. 

"I did not flirt with you." Genji finally replies from somewhere behind him.

"If you say so," he teases in return, hands stuffing back in his pockets, resting where they’re most comfortable. "Don't worry about it. I know I'm a charmer."

"I... am sorry. It has been a long flight to get here.”

They make their way through the, base, just… meandering around. He doesn’t really wanna go back. The boss will probably make him fill out paperwork, and watching Genji walk around in the funny way that he does, his feet still making those pat-pat-pat noises, like some sort of bird, is infinitely preferable. Genji no longer glaring at him is a plus, too.

Genji pauses, falls into step beside McCree. “I was, however, serious. Who is holding the costume party?" he suddenly says.

Jesse glances to his side, glad to see Genji following him, seemingly more relaxed. At least, he hopes he is. Reading body language isn't difficult, but without a face to see any kind of expression, it adds some difficulty. Though he does seem ready to strike, able to lash out whenever, as if he was built for it-

"Costume party?" he replies almost instantly, cutting off his own train of thought. "There ain't a costume party." His face twists, scrunching up like a child who's just been mocked. "You're the one lookin' like you're headin' to a costume party."

Chest huffing up, standing up straighter, a bit proud of the comeback, before realizing that was most definitely not a good thing to say. And the short lived pride disintegrates as quickly as it formed, twisted face turning into a more worried expression. "That- I didn't mean that. Not what I meant to say."

His response startles laughter out of Genji. "What would my costume be? Cyborg ninja?” 

A wave of relief washes over him as Genji doesn't take insult at his joke, instead laughing. Actually laughing. It comes out filtered, voice changed and made to sound more robotic, but it sounds so genuine. It makes Jesse smiles as well, easing himself, ignoring the way his chest tightens a bit.

He shakes his head, left and right, folding his arms across his chest. "It is not everyday that you see someone dressed like a cowboy. You... dress like this regularly?"

"I do," he answers, tipping the brim of his hat down. "The look fits. I think I look just fine, as is. I don't dress to impress."

"That has to be against regulations." He somehow gets the feeling that Genji is smiling at him. 

"If it was, you really think I'd keep dressin' like this?" he responds, a small smirk on his lips. He chooses not to bring up the times he's gotten lectured or in trouble for wearing the hat and spurs in important meetings. 

"I don't know what to think, Agent McCree. I am new here. So, where are we going?"

Jesse scratches his chin, trying to remember exactly where Leung would be. Meh. "Suppose I can just take you around the base. We can ask Angela-- Dr. Ziegler where your sleeping assignment is."

He quickly interjects. "She does not plan to stay long. She will be going back to headquarters tomorrow."

Jesse nods, leading the two of them towards the entrance of the medical block. "Guess we should find her pretty quick, then." He's sure they'll find her in the medical wing, as always, knowing exactly where that is.

He has just the slightest hope that Genji's been assigned near his own bed, but brushes away that thought quickly, not wanting to worry about being threatened again with only his boxers on, half-asleep. "The base ain't too big. Shouldn't take too long to show ya' around."

It's dusk, nearing time for dinner. There aren't many people walking around, but a couple of the techs wave hello at Jesse. But he notices how their eyes gloss over Genji as if he doesn't exist - the normal attitude towards omnics, tolerance, but not acknowledgement

Jesse frowns. Genji asks him, "You know where she is?

"Yeah," he answers, turning to nod at him as if to confirm it even more. "Usually sticks around the medical ward. You know, since she's a doc and all. If she's not there, I can give her a ring."

"A... ring? As in, the accessory?"

"No-" he quickly realizes the confusion, holding his hand up to his face, thumb near his ear, pinkie towards his mouth, like a mock telephone. "Like a call. Sorry, not tryin' to confuse you." 

Jesse leans over just a bit to use the retinal scanner, the device quickly reading over him twice, then making a light sound as the door in front of them unlocks. The scanner reads his name on it, 'Agent Jesse McCree', lights turning bright green. It allows the both of them through, and he nods his head towards Genji to follow.

He’s gone undercover in enough big corps to know that the routine procedure is to have an AI handle all this, instead of using archaic security tech. But his boss doesn’t trust AIs, and for good reason, if the movies about the strike force were anything to go by.

"Do not worry about it, Jesse McCree."

He can't help but smile when he hears Genji says his name, speaking it over as if he's trying to figure out how to properly pronounce it. It's endearing. He doesn't comment on it, though, worrying that teasing him more will just annoy him, and he figures the last thing they really need is to be at each other's throats again. 

Walking through the building is second nature. He doesn’t really have to look around to know where he needs to go. He's been through it enough to know all the ins and outs, leading Genji over to a nearby hallway.

"Very interesting tour you are giving, Agent McCree," Genji observes drily. ”You have not spoken since we entered this place.”

"Oh," Jesse stops near dead in his tracks. He utters a quick apology, turning to Genji before gesturing around them. “Sorry, did you need me to tell you about the janitorial closets? Figured they weren’t all that important. Over there’s broom closet 1, the place where Pinto had sex with Eulaers. Over there’s broom closet 2, where Eulaers dumped Pinto when he realized Pinto wasn’t considerin’ marriage. And here’s broom closet 3, where we store brooms. Interestin’ enough tour for you, sir?” he asks, grinning.

“So many broom closets,” Genji comments.

“Yeah, need a place for the hell lot of people we have in the closet here.” He laughs at his own joke. “Her office is down that hallway, take a left, and it's even got her name on it so ya' don't forget. And, uh. You don't have t’ be so formal. No one really calls each other 'Agent' 'round here. McCree's fine. Or, uh, Jesse. If you’d like that.” Jesse says softly, and it’s nice – to have someone who’ll entertain him joking around, instead of giving him a stony glare. He imagines that they meet eyes, for a moment, gazes lock, then- 

"Jesse, what did I tell you about disturbing the patients-“

Jesse turns immediately at the sound a familiar voice, a welcoming smile stretching across his face, glad to take in the sight of someone familiar. Angela. She looks busy as ever, how it always seems to be. He resists the urge to ruffle her hair, or get too comfortable with Genji still here, wanting to keep things at least a bit professional. 

“Genji! How has it been? Sorry, I've been stuck in a meeting about supplies here, and then some agents got back from a mission - oh, have you two met?"

Genji straightens, then nods robotically. "I am well, Doctor. Thank you."

"Dr. Ziegler," Jesse greets her. Jesse doesn’t get the relationship between the two of them all that well, but Genji seems nervous around Angela, and he wants him to loosen up. No need for an awkward atmosphere. "Yep, thought I'd bring 'im over. We're already the best of friends, ain't that right, Genji?" His right hand reaches out, giving his new friend a good at on the back, to stop him from setting an example for posture, of all things, for Angela to needle at the next time him and her were alone.

Genji stumbles forwards, then catches himself, whipping his head to glare at Jesse, unamused. "Yes. Best friends with McCree-san," he grits out politely. Genji’s obviously playing on his accent. Jesse keeps up the smug grin, hearing the bite in Genji's voice, sure he would be glaring daggers at him if he could. At least he doesn't have to worry about him actually lashing out in front of Dr. Ziegler.

"That's good," Angela says, smiling in relief. "I'm glad. Between this and that, it's nice to hear about that good things happen once in a while."

But then, before Jesse can pinpoint the exact moment, the casual air between the two of them vanishes. Genji subtly distances himself, an inch further, and Jesse’s chest squeezes again.

She looks reprovingly at him, and he scuffs his boots on the floor. "Now, Jesse, you had best not be a bad influence on him. I trust that Carl's already brought you around? Oh, I nearly forgot! Genji, your dialysis machine is with me. I've instructed the medical staff about your nutrient paste, you can get it from them whenever you're hungry."

His attention switches from Genji to the doctor, listening to her words as if it actually concerns him. There’s no reason for his chest to squeeze. By all means, there's no reason for him to remember these details, but he listens like it involves him. He just met him- they aren't friends. Even if he had the desire to be friends, to spend more time with him, Genji doesn't seem open to the idea. The last thing he needs is more trouble. 

"Thank you, Dr Ziegler." Genji’s turned his head to stare at Jesse, as if he’s gauging his reaction.

He switches his gaze back to Genji, taking in the way he stares at him. Even though his eyes aren't visible, he feels as if they're drilling right into him, scrutinizing, waiting. His breath catches in his throat. 

"Nutrient paste, huh?" he manages to croak out, eyes looking between Genji and Dr. Ziegler.

Angela claps her hands, nodding. "I suppose he hasn't told you yet, we just arrived today," at that, she looks at the slim wristwatch she's wearing, "and it's nearing supper time. Genji, you can choose to sleep tonight wherever you'd like, the medical bay or the barracks. Well, I have another meeting to get to soon. You two have fun tonight!" She smiles cheekily at them, as if the three of them are sharing some sort of secret, and hurries off, her white lab coat a flurry behind her.

Jesse's body tenses up at her suggestive smile, the way she tells the two of them to have fun, how now he's going to be alone with Genji again. He almost reaches out and calls her back, but doesn't, knowing she has much better things to do than help ease whatever awkwardness is budding. He doesn't even really understand why he suddenly feels so tense, when he was relaxed and calm only a moment ago.

"Take care, Dr Ziegler," Genji calls out, voice tight. He doesn't look at McCree anymore, only looking distantly at her retreating back. She doesn't even turn around to look at him, ushered into another room by a passing nurse.

Breathing in a long breath through his nose, he turns his body to be completely facing Genji, looking down at him. "Figure you'll wanna spend the night here," he drawls, hands shoved into his pockets again. "Know you've had a hell of a day, arrivin' at a new place and all. We can continue our little tour tomorrow, if ya' want."

For what it counts, Genji looks lost. It’s like the conversation with her drained him. There's nothing left of the fiery spirit from earlier in the afternoon.

"Yes," Genji says. He doesn't quite look at McCree in the eye. "I will find Agent Leung myself, then."

"No-" it comes out too fast, too hastily. He pauses, clearing his throat, smile stretching across his lips for Genji. To maybe relax the tense atmosphere they've created. He doesn't dislike Genji, not by any means, there's something about him. "I mean, you don't have'ta do that. I'll still show you 'round, if you want. Doubt you'd be able to find him all on your own, anyway. Was just tryin' to be considerate and let you rest, if you wanted to.”

"It is late, Agent." Genji's voice is searching. "Perhaps it is you who should be the one resting. He is probably in the-" Genji pauses, the word for the eating hall lost for a few moments, "canteen. He can direct me to the commander." The dismissal is clear in his tone.

"Domo arigato.” He tip his head forward. “It means 'thank you', for your assistance." With a pivot of his foot, Genji is gone into the maze of hallways.

Everything seems to move so fast, Jesse hardly getting a moment to respond to him before Genji turns away from him, walking, as if he actually knows where he's going.

"You’re welcome," he shouts, hands cupped over his mouth, hoping Genji can hear him, no matter where he’s gone.

Hands falling to his sides, his feet are still planted on the ground, unmoving, despite knowing that he should be walking away, leaving. In his mind, he conjures the image of the other getting lost, looking at the sunset over the waves alone, ignored by almost everyone.

Or even worse, getting into some kind of trouble. Jesse convinces himself that the reason he cares is because it would lead to him getting a lecture too. He can already hear it, Reyes droning at him for leaving the new agent alone, letting him wander off without supervision, potentially put himself and others in danger. It makes him sigh.

That's all he cares about. Really. How it’ll get him in trouble too. It’s not like he’s worried about him or anything.

Turning on his heel, he walks the opposite direction that Genji’d left him for, refusing to give into the part of him that wants to actually chase after him.


	2. brontide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2\. brontide: (bron'tīd), [key]. — n. a low muffed sound, like distant thunder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the uprising patch cured my depression. i couldnt not push an update out. but this is now officially AU, since here Genji has no sexy heel knives or glowing red eyes.

He’d been hiding in the gas store when they’d found him and abuelita. The wood was digging into his knees in a way that he thought should have hurt, but it didn’t. He’d been breathing small little breaths. Harsh, fast. Trying to make sure that he wasn’t making too much noise, though it didn’t really matter how much noise he made with the screaming going on outside. He didn’t exactly want to say that there had been tears in the corner of his eyes, but there was a lot of smoke, and they’d made his eyes water. It really had had nothing to do with the way his heart was pounding in his chest too loud, his hands unable to stop shaking, biting his lips so that his mouth tasted like iron.

She’d been sitting down next to him, back to the wall, smoking. She couldn’t exactly run, like the rest of them did. Her leg had been due for fixing, but Deadlock had never really wanted her to be able to run from them. She knew too much, and she knew that they knew that, too. So there had been plenty of excuses. Mac and Josh had told her to stay put, that they’d be able to take care of the assholes threatening them. They’d hauled Jesse along to the firefight, but his arm had been shot, and they’d left him behind with abuelita when they realized he couldn’t do anything against the Overwatch unit. His arm was still bleeding sluggishly, warm and wet and slippery under the cloth he’d used to staunch the flow.

Jesse had seen them shot down after they’d tried to hide him, seen their blood spilled, the way there was no mercy given to them. No chances given.

Abuelita had told him to run. She’d had a grenade in her hand, hidden underneath her skirt. She’d spat out her cigarette, ground the stub on his hand to put it out. Told him not to forget her. He told her that there was no way that he could, and then he’d asked her plaintively why she had to hurt him. She’d laughed at him, her smoke-dry throat turning it into a long cough. Didn’t want to risk playing with fire if she waved it around, not if they both wanted to survive. He told her she shouldn’t have been smoking in the gas store, anyway, if she didn’t want the whole place to blow up around them.

“When you grow older, you will know what it is like to want to die after a good smoke, not before, _mi chiquito_.”

The firefight outside was still going strong, shouting and the screams of the dying in tune with the sounds of explosions. She had laughed at him again, petted his hat, and told him not to cry, because his tears would mess up his aim. He had laughed back, blustered. He hadn’t cried in a good five years now. No room for crying when Juan and the rest would only see it as weakness. He wasn’t a kid. He’d deserved his spot in Deadlock with the rest of them.

He’d more than deserved it. He was Deadeye. They’d used him for so many missions, and he’d finally gotten his fair share of pay, he wasn’t messed around with anymore, and most of all, he wasn’t helpless. Maybe it was delusional of him, but they’d started treating him like family. Abuelita had come up with the name. She’d been the one to line up the cans by some rocks and give him bullets, told him to use her gun. Couldn’t really use it anymore when she was blind, anyway.

Then, banging, on the door. The men had swarmed in, black demons, dressed head to toe in cloth and metal, no faces. She lit up a cigarette, and slowly got up, still leaning on her bad leg. Tossed some propane tanks around, the gas hissing from the valves. Jesse got up next to her, and all the guns were immediately trained onto him. She’d taken out her lighter from her back pocket then, flicked the case open. The soldiers immediately started backing away, guns tucked as they scrambled to turn and flee.

He kissed her cheek, and he ran past them. The store had blown up behind him, and he could still feel the burn on his hand, but he forced his fingers into the wound on his arm. Abuelita had told him not to cry. 

There were six bullets in the gun, still. He hadn’t used it yet. He had to get to the warehouse somehow, get to the trucks, maybe hitch on the last ride. He saw one, riding past him, and he used them all now, shooting down any demon with a rifle that he saw. Even the snipers. Probably thought he couldn’t see them, but the way their shots were landing, he knew exactly where they were. Clean through the head. His arm had been steady. The truck had gotten away. 

Barely any spit was left in his mouth when they’d cornered him, but he’d gathered it all and spat it out at them. They’d beaten him down to the ground and had been ready to blow his brains out for him when a huge guy, bigger than anyone Jesse had ever seen before, had said something. Jesse had smiled, and he thought that he should have saved a bullet for himself. The guy’d knocked him out with a backhand, and that had been it.

He wakes up to blood on the floor, on the matte off-white of the interrogation table, the red around his swollen wrists patterned with raw flesh and torn skin. His vision is bleary. Has been, for a while now. 

His cheek is numb from where he’d had his head slammed into the table. The interrogators weren’t all to happy with him for killing their friends. Wasn’t as if he had no reason to, what with the way they were blowing up and killing everyone in sight back home.

The big guy comes again, and Jesse learns of his name. He is the king.

The scene blurs into another one, of him getting beaten up, this time behind the lockers at the sparring area. It hurts, and he’s helpless to stop it, and no one had been happy with the addition of their friends’ killer to their ranks.

The king, he stares at him impassively, from the doorway. Jesse knows he’s probably imagining his silhouette. He doesn’t really do anything to suggest that Jesse isn’t hallucinating. Jesse thinks that he must be. But this is nothing new. If anything, it reminds him of when he’d been younger. He’ll just have to find a way to make a name for himself again.

He knows that nobody wants him. He’s used to being alone. To have everyone look at him like he’s diseased, like he doesn’t belong.

The king leaves, and Jesse is numb, and it fades to black, then white.

It’s a nightmare that Jesse hasn’t had in a long time. 

He wakes up to knocking. At first, he thinks it can’t be anything, but the sound of rapping is insistent.

Jesse takes the time to rub his eyes, recenter himself.

He looks around, trying to focus, keep himself awake. The room is empty, but there are posters along the walls. All propaganda about the Omnic War, worn, faded. His eyes trace along the beds. Three of them, empty. Looking like they haven't been touched for a long time, but there's a plush toy of an eagle tucked beside the pillow of one of them.

Vasquez and Dmitriou’s names are inscribed along the trunks at the foot of their beds. It’s where they’re supposed to keep their personal items. Jesse has been counting how many inches of dust will collect until they’re back from their respective missions. They haven’t been officially decommissioned, but. It’s just been a few months since he’s last seen them.

He breathes through his nose.

His name is Jesse McCree.

He is the beloved cowboy of Blackwatch, the steadiest face, the bastard with nine lives.

No one hates him, because nobody alive now remembers what he’s done.

He’s glad for the high turnover rate Blackwatch has, really. 

On his bedside, the green of his alarm clock blinks. 5am, huh. Not even morning call yet. Not urgent either, considering whoever it was hasn’t busted his door down yet, and there isn’t really any yelling as far as he can hear. 

Jesse runs his fingers through the mess of hair on his head, trying to smooth it out a bit and make it a bit presentable as he attends to the knock at the door. He knows he looks like a mess, clothes astrewn, woken up just recently. He'd think waking up this time everyday would make him more used to this. 

The knocking gets more insistent, and he grunts.

"I know you’re there, don’t need to break Overwatch property. Hey-" he stops talking once he opens the door, seeing who's standing there. "Oh, howdy." He straightens himself a bit, smoothing down his clothes with the palm of his hand.

Who else would it be but- Jesse scratches his stomach, shirt riding up. He can see Genji glance down surreptitiously, and he stiffens even more, turning sullen. At least, that’s the little that Jesse can derive from his body language. Hard to read, omnics.

He corrects himself. Not omnic. Genji is a cyborg.

Damn. Jesse had been planning on having a good morning, too. Now he’ll have to hang out with Genji the Grump. He has to stop himself from smiling at the nickname.

Genji wordlessly hands Jesse a very crumpled note. Message delivered, he folds his arms across his chest, his chin tucked into the dip of his collarbone plates.

He takes the crumpled note with a raised brow, doing his best to not snicker at the way Genji crosses his arms, shoulders back, standing tall. Like he’s proud or something.

"What's this?" he says. His voice is raspy from sleep, so he clears his throat. He looks between the note and Genji, looking him over again. "You don't seem all too happy. Didn't go too well, huh? Told ya' I could go with ya', probably should've took me up on that."

Genji mutters something in Japanese that Jesse can’t quite make out. He’s not at all shy like he’d been yesterday when he’d left Jesse standing in the corridor, looking this way and that. Jesse hadn’t seen him in the mess hall, either. Probably didn’t want to be seen drinking his nutrition pack. Genji seemed real sensitive about that topic, when Angela’d brought it up.

Jesse squints his eyes. He figured the nutrition pack was probably in some Capri Sun wrapper, but he couldn’t figure out where the straw would go. Did he drink it between where the green light under his visor came from? It’s a bit too bright for Jesse to stare at directly. Maybe he has a hole directly connected to his stomach underneath the jumpsuit? The helmet looks glued onto his head. Jesse doesn’t even know it it comes off.

He leans against the doorway, waiting for an answer.

Genji clears his throat in return, and it sounds weird. There’s something off to it, like the sound isn’t entirely organic. It’s interesting. Must be the voice synthesizer, Jesse thinks.

"Apologies for dropping in so early. Jet lag.”

Jesse snorts, and then Genji’s stare becomes daggers into him.

“Commander Reyes has assigned me to your squad. It seems that I will be imposing further on your hospitality." He doesn't sound sorry at all. If anything, he sounds like he's out for blood. He mutters something in Japanese, the words slithering faster than Jesse can catch them. An insult, probably.

"Can't understand what you're sayin', but I heard my name in there," he says, before a wide, cocky grin breaks across his face at the news that Genji will be joining him. He’d known that. It had been in Genji’s file. Genji hadn’t been told? Huh. For some reason, the way he sounds so displeased makes it all the better.

It’s like Genji’s an angry cat, what with the little ears and all sticking out of his head. He has the feeling, though, that Genji would rip him a new one if he dared to say that Genji reminded him of one out loud. 

"Glad to have you aboard." He reaches out, patting his shoulder with more force than needed. "Almost like fate, huh? Seems like more than a coincidence to me," Jesse nods sagely, face completely serious.

"I should visit a pachinko parlor soon, then," Genji says shortly. "It seems that fate has decided that my streak of good luck never ends.” He pushes past Jesse, tugging on the arm straps of his standard issue backpack. He drops his bag on the floor.

Pachinko, that’s something McCree’s heard of before, but hasn’t played. Always wanted to try, did always tend to be a bit of a gambler. He grins lazily, turning around, but still leaning on the door, watching Genji prowl around his room. He’s looking at the corners, probably trying to see if there’re vents. So, he does have some kind of training. Ninja training, maybe? Genji’s Japanese, after all. He wouldn’t put it past the commander to recruit an honest-to-god ninja into their ranks. 

"Sounds like you're real happy to be here," he replies, voice dripping with sarcasm. He shuts the door behind them, following him back into the room. "Just pick whatever empty bed suits ya'." He approaches his own bed, grabbing his hat from beside it and placing it in its proper place on his head. "Can't share a bed with me, no matter how badly ya' want to."

Genji ignores him.

Aw. Jesse had thought that that had been a good one, too.

Genji walks closer to them, looks at the trunks. "Vasquez... and Dmitriou?" The way Genji says the two names are kinda slow, and kinda wrong, but Jesse figures the two of them wouldn’t mind. They’re not even here to hear it anyway.

"Yeah," he replies, not looking at him, instead looking between the beds. "They're not here. Obviously. Well, probably not their beds, in case they ever come back. You can have this one, though." He points to an empty bed, no name on it, bare with nothing but a single blanket folded atop it, and a pillow beside it.

He turns to look at him, eyes moving between Genji’s face and neck, watches the way he kicks his bag under the bed unceremoniously and sits down. The mattress immediately sinks underneath his weight, but Genji doesn’t seem to mind so much.

Jesse stares at him for a good few minutes, waiting for a thanks, anything. Genji doesn’t even move. 

"So, you, uh... I know you don't eat normal food, but how do you eat with the whole-" he waves a hand in front of his own face. "visor thing. Do you need help?"

"You... remember."

When he replies, it’s like he’s breaking out of something. Stuck in memories, maybe. Jesse has seen it. He wonders how Genji even got through the psych evals.

The same way he does it, maybe. Faking it until he makes it. Huh.

"Already thinking about food so early? Do you not seek to watch your figure, Agent McCree?"

"Still gotta eat food to have a figure like this," he responds, tone light hearted as he looks down at himself, hands moving down his own chest. He slides over his chest, down his sides, giving himself a few small pats. Muscular, from the training that he isn’t allowed to stay away from, but his eating habits show. At the very least, no one’s calling him skinny anymore.

His gaze turns back to Genji, feeling better about their relationship already. Not so snappy today. Less bite. But still no give at all.

He's sure he can crack a few light hearted jokes, help Genji with whatever he needed, become friends. He’s pretty sure, though, that he still has to worry about the other man attacking him at the slightest offence, judging by the way Genji’s shoulders are so stiff. 

"And didn't I tell ya' to not call me Agent, Genji? How are we supposed ta' be best friends if you keep it all formal like that."

Genji huffs disbelievingly, his arms folding back across his chest. "I am keeping our relationship professional. In experience, you are my superior. I mean absolutely no... disrespect towards you, Agent."

"Well, in case ya' forgot, we're gonna be livin' together," he replies, a hint of bitterness in his tone. "And if I'm gonna have to see you every day I'd like to at least get along, Genji." He places emphasis on the use of his name. "Unless you'd rather be at each other's throats the entire time you're here. Don't you forget what I told you yesterday, I could take you down easy."

"Being professional does not mean that we cannot get along, Agent McCree."

Jesse raises an eyebrow, and Genji turns his head to the side.

"However, I would be amenable to _helping_ you if you wished to find out if you could truly 'take me down'."

To be very honest, Jesse wasn't expecting Genji to take him up his threat, to actually want to _fight_. What he had been expecting was for more bickering, small threats without action, then moving along without injury.

Of course, it’s a silly assumption to make with _Genji_.

With those words, Genji kicks the bag out from underneath the bed, pulls it onto his lap.

Jesse had called it, but he still purses his lips when Genji pulls an honest-to-god _sword_ out of his bag. It’s got green lights along the handle, and Jesse has to rub at his eyes.

Genji’s unsheathing it now, the metal gleaming white and green underneath the harsh fluorescent lights of the room.

Staring at the blade, taking in the sight of it, his heart skips a beat, chest tightening as he straightens himself. Instinctively, his hand goes to his side, where he keeps his revolver strapped at all times, but of course, it isn't there. He’s just woken up, after all, and the feeling of emptiness, nothing to grab onto, makes him panic more.

He’s looking at Jesse, probably trying to gauge a reaction. He swiftly sheathes it again, with a 'shink' noise.

" _Ashita no koto o iu to tenjou no nezumi ga warau._ It is difficult to predict the future, Agent McCree," he says, dangerous edge to his voice. 

The sight of the other sheathing the sword again makes him breathe a sigh of relief, but his body’s still tense. He doesn’t like being threatened. Hates, it actually.

"If I had my Peacekeeper on me, you'd be dead," he bites. "Can't do anything with that sword with a bullet in your chest."

He doesn’t want to resort to death threats, but Genji has been egging him on since yesterday. Like he’s testing his limits, trying to figure out where to push. And really, Jesse has been patient for far too long.

"Why don't we find out if that is true," Genji smirks, and he actually sounds amused, not sarcastic. "Get your Peacekeeper."

He would be lying if he said he doesn't consider it for a moment, fingers twitching, wanting to grab the revolver and do just that. He's not one to turn down a fight, especially one he started, but he knows he can't. Not in their bedroom, and he doesn't dare to think about how he's actually scared. The extent of Genji's body is unknown to him, and he doesn't want to find out what he can actually do.

Without an expression, helmet over his face, Jesse can’t figure out if he’s even joking about the fight.

It’s foreign.

"No," he says firmly. "Neither of us are doin' anything. We ain't fighting in here just 'cause you have a death wish."

"I do not have a death wish," Genji argues. "I have a mission I have to complete."

"What kinda' mission is that, huh?" He crosses his arms over his chest, eyebrow raised. "How's gettin' shot going to help you?"

"To destroy the Shimada clan." Genji says it with such venom, hefting his sword. "It is what I have been contracted into Blackwatch to do. You have heard of it?"

"Yeah," he replies, trying to have the same venom in his voice, but it doesn't sound as threatening. "I'm just wondering how this little fight between me and you-" He points between the both of them. "is gonna help that at all. Like I said, you'd just end up with a bullet in ya'. Don't know how you can expect to fight a bullet with a sword."

"It will-" he falters. "It will..." he changes the topic. "You are so insistent that your aim is good enough to hit me. I doubt it is."

"You're literally a foot away from me," he says, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He holds two fingers out, pressing them to Genji's chest with his thumb up, a mock gun. "Doubt I’d miss."

"Take your Peacekeeper, then. There should not be anyone using the sparring room this early."  
Genji suddenly pushes his chest forward, gripping Jesse’s wrist with his hand, making the fingers dig deeper into his own chest. "I'll be taking your word for it, _cowboy_."

Jesse huffs, ready to punch him, before he pauses, thinking it over. This will get Genji to stop, show that he doesn't stand a chance. 

"Fine," he bites, making sure to give him a harsh glare, before forcibly ripping his hand from Genji's grip. He steps forward, the two of them merely inches apart. "Don't say I didn't warn ya', _ninja_."

He pulls away suddenly, going to his own bedside to grab his belongings, placing Peacekeeper in her proper place strapped to his side. Placing a hand on his head, he adjusts the brim of his hat, before motioning with one hand for Genji to follow him out of their room.

"Fine," Genji parrots, a little bit behind him as he follows after, deceptively mild. 

Jesse doesn't bother saying anything as the two of them walk, not even looking at the other man, his hand subconsciously hovering over his revolver at his side, fingers twitching. The practice range is empty at this hour, not a soul in sight as they enter it, though Jesse still makes sure to look around so that they won't be caught. 

He stops once they reach a wide, empty area, slowly sliding his Peacekeeper out of its holster and into his hand. 

"Stand over there." He motions to the opposite side with his chin.

He takes the few steps towards the position that Jesse’s suggested, unsheathing the sword. It’s a short blade, barely an arm's length. The sheath is cast aside, clattering onto the floor near the door.

Automatically, Genji starts tilting into a bow, before he catches himself, and straightens immediately. He automatically settles into a defensive stance, his heels a shoulder's width apart, sword raised in front of him.

"If I disarm you, then you will spar with me whenever I wish, without question. If you manage to shoot me, I will call you McCree. I am ready when you are, Agent."

"Deal," he agrees without hesitation, no doubt in his mind that he can win this. He's hit harder targets than this. He has training that Genji doesn't, he's better qualified, better suited for this. He stands tall, full of confidence, fingers adjusting on the grip of the Peacekeeper. 

"Draw," he says quickly, voice loud and deep as he lifts the revolver, aiming square for the side of Genji’s head as he pulls the trigger. Should be enough of a warning, and neither the boss or Angela will heckle him for fucking with Overwatch property.

Jesse watches him with trained eyes, watching every movement he makes, sure he'll move out of the way, roll away and he prepares to shoot him again, where he believes Genji will move, ready to taunt him and call the lesson a done deal.

But then, faster than Jesse can even register, he does something different, something he hasn't seen before, and most definitely has not seen before.

The sword in Genji’s hands moves almost faster than his eyes can see, and a loud buzz fills Jesse’s ears. He can feel a burn in his ear, and he’s suddenly dizzy - he presses his glove to his ear, and it glistens wetly - blood? No, that can’t be right.

He’d shot Genji.

He looks for the bullet hole on the other side of the range, but it’s not there.

Genji is still in front of him, the sword in his hand, arms finely jittering. He turns his head to Jesse’s face - no, he’s looking slightly to the right, Jesse’s ear, then, the sword, then Jesse’s ear again. Trying to piece together a puzzle, it seems, but Jesse- Jesse’s the one who should be questioning things here. He’d pulled the trigger - so - how? 

It takes him a moment to process exactly what’s happened. Did... Genji actually manage to _deflect_ his shot? Using his sword? He blinks in disbelief, then turns around. He looks between the hole in the wall and Genji, eyes widening a bit. His ear burns.

“You… meant to do that? S’what you said about missing? Because, y’know, technically, I _hit_ you,” Jesse babbles.

"Again," Genji demands.

He can't even think of anything to say, just staring before Genji demands for him to shoot again. On reflex, he lines up the shot to Genji’s head and pulls the trigger, quick and merciless, and _fuck_ , he shouldn’t be aiming for the head, it’s going to kill Genji - he makes a noise and barely flicks his gun up but the bullet’s already been fired-

Genji crouches into his stance, and this time, he tries something new. Jesse catches him, the way his eyes zero in on the bullet, and how he flips the flat of the blade upwards. The way the bullet hole appears in the ceiling is almost comical; Jesse can see the pellet, crushed and black against the polymer, directly above his head, barely a dot in all the grey.

The sword itself looks as if it barely a scratch on it, from the way that Genji is now examining it in his hands, maybe seeing if it’s cracked, but it’s probably completely unaffected by the shot, judging from the way he tucks it back into its sheath.

Jesse feels like he is riding on a high, adrenaline pumping through him. His senses are very, very sharp now, and he can feel the sweat starting to roll down his temple acutely, the sensation of the gun in his hand dense and cold.

He’d almost killed Genji without a second thought.

"You are bleeding. What happened to being certain that I would not be faster than a bullet," Genji says, but the jibe is weak. He’s trembling. He looks like he’s barely able to hold his sword.

Slowly, he slides the gun back into its holster, taking a step towards Genji. 

"I gotta say," he doesn't reply to what Genji says to him. "That was pretty damn impressive. You do that often?”

“No…” Genji says carefully. “That… was the first time I have ever done so.” Far from stoicism, Genji’s voice is filled with wonder. 

A wide grin spreads on his lips in return, looking at Genji with genuine happiness.

Genji drops the sword to the floor in what looks like relief, Jesse can’t exactly tell. He clutches his arm, a massage, sort of, even, though Jesse doesn’t really think there would have been that much sensation in a robotic arm. He tucks the gun back in its holster, and then his eyes lift towards Genji’s.

"Thank you. It... seems that I will be seeing you much more often, McCree."

The smile plastered on his face only grows when the other calls him by his name, without 'Agent' in front of it. It takes all his willpower to not wrap an arm around the other, or give him a good hug, his chest suddenly swelling and his heart beating faster. He's sure any growth to their friendship would be immediately broken if he crosses his boundaries, but Genji can tell how happy he is for sure.

"I'm more than happy to see you here if you get to do that more often," he says, reaching up to adjust the brim of his hat.

"Yes." Genji replies, and warmth and awe is evident in his tone. He looks down, then back up at Jesse, as if he’s mustering the courage to say something. "I... -"

The rest of his sentence is drowned by the bugled wake-up call, blaring across the speakers. Genji startles, the green light of his visor flickering.

It's sunrise, which means most of the base will be up and running in less than half an hour. They both stare at each other. When the song finishes playing, Genji says, "See you tonight."

It's almost as if the Japanese man had realized that what he was going to say would be embarrassing, and he proceeds to vanish through the door, just as he did the day before, a perfect ninja getaway.

He comes back a few moments later to pick up his sheath, forgotten on the floor, and then says bye again, a tentative wave this time with his goodbye, before going for good.

Jesse nods, watching him leave. It only makes him smile broader, trying to ignore the warmth of his chest. 'Cute' is what his mind tells him Genji is, but he immediately brushes that off as he leaves the training range, refusing to acknowledge it. 

And still, the way he waves at him, the sound of his own name leaving Genji, it's all that runs through his mind for the rest of the day. Genji is all he can think about. He blames it on the fact that they’re roommates, forced to see each other, but he knows there’s something more. Genji’s different.

His ear tingles when he washes it with water later, grazed at the tip.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos appreciated!


End file.
